


In Loving Memory

by janinehawkins



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4677893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janinehawkins/pseuds/janinehawkins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark goes to the cemetery, but it is not to see Danny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Loving Memory

Mark has never felt more alone. After Danny’s death he thought he knew what alone was, but it was nothing compared to this.

Traipsing across the cemetery attached to the small church at the top of the hill, his eyes drifted in the direction of his father’s and brother’s grave. They were not that far away from his intended destination.

Before he’d left the house, he had tucked Lizzie in for a nap. She was too old for naps during the day now, but he’d seen himself just how little sleep she had been getting and felt no guilt in putting her down for a few hours. Not long after he had slipped out of the house when no one had been watching, his mother being upstairs doing god knows what. He didn’t even have the heart in him to try and find out right now. It didn’t matter anyway.

When he arrives at the grave, the dirt beneath his feet has been freshly dug and put back down. The words etched into the headstone rip the hole wider inside of Mark as he feels his knees buckle under him. Knees land in the dirt, but there is not an ounce of care in Mark’s body as he feels the first of sobs rise up inside of him.

_In loving memory of Elizabeth Latimer_

Mark does not need to read any further, he knows what the rest says having chosen the words that would be etched into the headstone himself.

For nine days, Mark has been the strong one. Holding Chloe as she cried, gently explaining to Lizzie that Beth was not going to come home again, looking after every person except himself for nine long days. He could no longer do it for a second more. For nine days he had held back his grief, the tears that had wanted to flow from the moment he had found out. The world was cruel and he seemed to suffer the most.

“ _Beth_ …” Mark’s voice is broken from the first word that leaves his lips, the dam having broken from the first sob that had left his body. He had been here a day before to bury his wife, holding Chloe and Lizzie close as they watched their mother being lowered into the ground. The entire time he had remained strong, never shedding a tear in front of his two girls while they clung on so tightly to him. “Oh, god, Beth… I don’t know what to do.”

He could not find it in himself to care that he was talking to his dead wife, a person that would never hear him or be able to reply to a word that he was saying. She had been his wife, his best friend, the person who had known him better than anyone else left on this god damn planet.

“Why you, eh? Why did it have to be you they took?… I just… What am I meant to do, eh?” Wiping his eyes roughly, it was another long minute of choked sobs before Mark was able to get another word past his lips. “Chlo misses you. Lizzie, too. She doesn’t get it… You’d know what to say, I just don’t have a clue now, do I? She keeps on expecting you to come home. Has nightmares and cries for you. Every night she’s crying for you now. Breaks my heart every time… Why’d you have to leave me, Beth?… I can’t do this on my own. I need you here.”

Tears run thick and fast down Mark’s cheeks, not giving a damn if anyone were to see him while he was slumped over in the dirt. Hands were flat out on the ground before him, shakily holding himself up so his face would not hit the overturned dirt.

“You promised me forever, love. I  _wanted_  forever. Not  _this_. Not to lose you. Wasn’t losing Dan enough? What fucked up kind of person thought I could handle this too?… I need you, Beth… I’m just  _lost_  now.”

Words turn into sobs once more, shoulders shaking as he allowed the grief to rip through his body with such force. The last time he had been like this was the day he found out Joe Miller had killed his son, he had run from the house, knowing Beth would still be there. That was not an option this time. He was stuck there, having to try and do all the things that Beth did when he wanted nothing more than to run.

He felt like  _poison_. Poison which destroyed everything he held dear to him. Everything which he loved with all of his heart. His brother, his father, his father-in-law, his son, his mother-in-law and now Beth. How much more could he lose? What would he destroy next?

“I’m so so sorry… I did this to you. My life did this to you. You wouldn’t be gone if you’d never met me. You’d still be my ray of sunshine that I first met… Just better off without me.”

Mark was selfish though, he knew he wouldn’t have given her up for anything in the world. He didn’t want the pain, but he did not want to lose her either. He could not imagine his life without Beth and everything that had come of it. Now he had to try, think of how the rest of his days would be without the love of his wife. Never to wake up beside her again, never brushing past her in the morning during the rush to get ready for the day, never to press his lips to the top of her head as he rushed out the door, never to be able to see her again.

Why had life chosen this cruel fate for him? To lose his son at 32 and his wife at 37. How was he to spend the next fifty or so years without her at his side? He could not picture it. He had always imagined growing old with Beth at his side and now he would never really know what she would have looked like.

“I love you so much, Beth… I hope you knew that. God, I hope you did.”

A dirt covered hand reached out to touch the headstone in front of him, but pauses at the last second when he sees just how dirty his skin was. He couldn’t touch it now. Not when he would be dirtying the last bit of Beth he could touch.

His hand falls back to the ground, gripping uselessly at the dirt which only clumps in his hand. Words blend into one, Mark repeating his love for Beth over and over and asking for her help and how he could make it through the next days, months, years without her.

Finally the tears dry up, Mark having cried himself dry, shirt and jeans wet with the tears he had allowed to fall free. He does not know how long he has been there, the sun now beginning to set over the horizon in the far distance. Time had blurred into one as of late, the hours blending together so he had no idea when he had tucked Lizzie in as she slept. Had it been morning? Afternoon? He had no clue.

Swallowing thickly, there is no moisture in his mouth and it does not seem to want to come. His throat and stomach hurts, the hours(?) of sobbing having had their effect on him in more ways than one. His mind headed in the direction of home, he thought of dinner having to be made. It was a laughable thought now, the idea of having to eat, but he still had to every night for Chloe and Lizzie. Nothing seemed at all important now he did not have Beth with him. Maybe his mum had made something, but he could not trust her. She didn’t know what his girls liked, not really.

It is another five minutes before Mark can bring himself to his feet, the effort being incredibly more than he ever remembered it being before. He cannot bring himself to walk away just yet, eyes lingering on the headstone that still sat in the ground before him. He does not even dare to look at the others around him, knowing they would bring on the tears that would not be able to come.

When he attempts to speak, his voice is hoarse and so quiet that he can barely even hear it himself.

“I love you zillions, Beth… So, so much. Til the day I die.” Without a thought he leaned down, lips pressing the hard stone, regretting the action immediately. It’s not Beth, not the soft lips he loved so much, the lips that he needed to press against his and reassure him that all would be fine. That he could make it through each and every coming day.

A quick turn and he is walking away, hands shaking as he does so. He does not look back, he can’t or else he fears he will never make it home.


End file.
